


Things Are Shaping Up to Be Pretty Something, I Guess.

by clique_sinnxr



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Radio, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clique_sinnxr/pseuds/clique_sinnxr
Summary: Just a very strange, funny, fluffy ryden fic. I don't know what else to say.





	1. dreams in static

Ryan was having strange dreams. (No, not the kind you're thinking of. Get your mind out of the gutter) No, like actually weird dreams. In one of them he was engaged to a mysterious man about his age with dark hair, but every time he tried to look at him, he couldn't see his face. In another, he was hiking with another very good looking brunet guy and his estranged Aunt kept showing up. He had to confront Jon. Jon would know what to do.

"Alright, so tell me about these dreams you've been having in full gory details," Jon said, smirking at Ryan.

"Oh my God, Jon, grow the fuck up. They're not sex dreams." Ryan said in exasperation, but he told him about the dreams anyway.

"Ok, so you've dreamed about the same guy for a month and you haven't told me? Spencer doesn't even know. What kind of friend are you, Ryan Ross?"

"Calm down. I don't even know what you're talking about. I never even said it was the same guy."

Jon looked at Ryan as if talking to a child, or at least someone incredibly slow. "Of course it's the same guy! I know you well enough to know that! What do they look like?"

"Um, well, I guess they all have dark hair, kinda scruffy, most of them have these deep mocha eyes that just-----"

"Ok, spare me. Are you sure you don't know this guy? Because it seems like you've seen him a lot..."

"I don't think I've ever seen him in my life," Ryan said, thinking long and hard about people he's seen recently.

"Well, you had to have seen him somewhere. I read somewhere that everyone in your dreams is a person you have seen before. It could even be like a cashier or something."

"Ok, no, Jon I have standards. I could never dream about a cashier or something, I'm high class." Ryan scoffed. Jon just raised his eyebrow skeptically and smirked. He made direct eye contact with Ryan for a few seconds before making a "kaching" sound and bursting into a fit of giggles. Ryan just pushed him out of the way and walked out of his house. Jon tried to wave good-bye, amid raucous laughter, but Ryan just flipped him off and got into his car.

As Ryan was driving he turned the radio on and immediately heard the strains of his favorite new Fall Out Boy song. Unfortunately, it was the last chorus, meaning the song was almost over. As the final chords faded away, a voice began to talk over Patrick's voice. Ryan instantly filled with annoyance. At least the guy could wait until the song was over to pollute the radio with his inane commentary.

"Hey guys, it's B. That was What A Catch, Donnie by Fall Out Boy. Now continuing with this week's playlist, we've got some MCR for you!" the voice was young and eager and way too fast.

Ryan scoffed to himself. This asshole interrupted a song. And he calls himself B. A stupid initial instead of a normal name. Like an attention seeker. How stupid is that? And he sounded like he called Fall Out Boy, Fallout Boy. Ryan couldn't have that. He moved to turn off the radio, or at least change the channel, but he could hear Gerard whispering the beginning of "Helena" and he decided not to.

"B" interrupted one more time, but this time he at least waited for the song to be over. He began to talk once more, this time debating with his co-host if it is ok to see many people at once before you go official with someone. The co-host, someone named "S" (I know, Ryan nearly had a conniption at that. Another initial. Jesus. Also, the show was called "The B.S. Show." It was a miracle Ryan didn't smash his car radio or throw it out the window). Anyway, "S" said it was okay, as long as everyone involved knew what was going on. "B" strongly believed that you should only be seeing one person at a time.

It was almost endearing how steadfastly he advocated his claim to "S" and the rest of Las Vegas tuned into the radio station. Ryan rolled his eyes, but he wasn't so pissed at "B" as he was before. He had kind of redeemed himself with his good music taste and great argument skills. Ryan fought back a grin as "B" began to whisper "He's wrong" into the microphone every time "S" tried to say something. He was forced to turn off the radio when his mother called, but the slight smile never left his face. Not even when his mother started to ask him when he would *finally* get a boyfriend.

 


	2. who's the new guy?

After his mother hung up, Ryan left the radio off and drove in silence. Ryan had been driving for a good twenty minutes when he got a notification on his phone. "Why haven't you told me about your dream guy?" it was Spencer. Ryan rolled his eyes. His phone buzzed again. "Also, you're coming to dinner at 7." Ryan decided to call Spencer instead of texting back and forth. He picked up almost instantly. 

"Ryan, you naughty boy," Spencer said teasingly. Ryan could hear the laughter in his voice. He could hear faint laughter behind him. "Kaching!" someone said from a distance.  Ryan felt the slight grin slide off his face.

"Jon, I swear to God," Ryan started. "Spencer, there's nothing to talk about. I saw a guy in my dream. Once. Okay, not once. But it doesn't matter. It's not like I _like_  him or something,"

"Okay, Ryan, whatever you say. By the way, I'm bringing one of my work friends to dinner. You don't know him." Spencer said.

"Sure, Spencer. I honestly don't care." Ryan said dryly. "Bye." and he hung up to Spencer's protests.  He drove home and got ready for dinner. A new person was going to show up, so he couldn't just be there in old jeans and a t-shirt. That would be rude, or awkward at the very least.  
   
He pulled out his best black jeans and his favorite band t-shirt that said: The Black Parade. That wasn't too bad. It didn't look like too much, but he didn't look like a homeless person either, which Jon and Spencer kept making fun of him for. Ryan carefully rimmed his eyes with eyeliner, again not so much that it made him look like a raccoon.

Glancing in the mirror once more, he ran his fingers through his hair quickly and left the room. Grabbing his black leather (fake) jacket, Ryan reached for his keys and stepped out of his house. Spencer and Jon's place wasn't too far away. On warm nights and whenever the weather wasn't too bad, Ryan would walk. Glancing cautiously at the sky, he decided it wouldn't be disastrous if he ventured out on foot.

He got to Spencer's house a few minutes early, but everyone was there already. Well, of course Jon and Spencer were there; Ryan had talked to them both less than an hour before. There was also a new guy (as promised) sitting on the couch, doubled over, almost breathless with laughter.

"Spencer James Smith," the man declared, pointing at him with an air of authority. "I think you may just be my favorite person in the entire world." Ryan snorted quietly. Spencer noticed him and grinned. The other guy (seriously who the hell is this guy?) looked up and seemed to see Ryan for the first time. "Hi, I'm Brendon," he said eagerly offering his hand for Ryan to shake. His voice was vaguely familiar. Ryan didn't know where he could have heard it before.

Shaking Brendon's hand, Ryan was able to get a really good look at the guy. A wave of deja vu washed over him as he studied Brendon's grinning face. _I've seen him somewhere_ , Ryan thought. The man was about his age, maybe a little younger, with a shock of unruly dark hair. His eyes were dark, sort of like fresh black coffee, or something of the sort. His pink lips were stretched in an impossibly wide smile. _Man, this guy is really good-looking._ Ryan broke away from Brendon's handshake and forced himself to say, "Nice to meet you Brendon, I'm Ryan. So how do you know Spencer?"

"Oh, we met at work," Brendon said. "We have a---" he started, but Spencer cut him off almost immediately.

"We have offices next to each other," Spencer said, looking at Brendon.

"Right, yeah," Brendon corrected. "Sorry, we have offices next to each other. I don't know what I was about to say." He sounded flustered and a little confused. Jon appeared in the hallway, saving the trainwreck of a conversation before it could get any weirder.

"The Chinese food just arrived. You guys want to come into the kitchen and eat?" Jon asked, holding two large plastic bags one hand and a strangely large spoon in the other. They all walked into the kitchen, and Ryan pulled Spencer aside while Brendon seated himself comfortably on a barstool.

"Why did you bring him?" Ryan asked accusatorily.

"He's cute. He'd be good for you. Besides, your mom is right. You really need to get out there and find _someone."_

 _"_ Since when have you been talking to my mother?"

"I have my ways, Ross, I have my ways," Spencer said mysteriously and made his way to the kitchen, leaving Ryan seriously confused, and a little concerned.


	3. coincidence

Ryan finally walked into the kitchen to see Brendon sitting obliviously at the counter while Jon and Spencer were whispering by the sink. "Hey, again," Ryan said, and sat down beside him. Jon and Spencer immediately looked over, Jon grinning widely. Ryan glared at them and reached for one of the three plates of food on the counter.

"I like your shirt," Brendon said. "MCR, huh? I love them! I saw them in concert a few years ago."

"Me too!" Huh, that was strange. Probably just a coincidence though. "But it wasn't here in Vegas. I was visiting my friends in Chicago."

"No way. You were in Chicago? Was it in 2009?" Brendon asked. No way, this was getting too strange for Ryan.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I was there too!" Brendon exclaimed. Ryan felt his jaw drop. How could he and Brendon have been at the same concert at the same time?

"Yeah, it was pretty awesome. I got pit tickets so I was right up there by the stage. I think I like died of happiness," Ryan said, and turned his plate toward him to start eating. That was Jon's cue to come back to the table. He winked at Ryan suggestively then sat down across from him. Spencer came to the table soon after.

"Hey, let's tell some funny stories. Brendon probably hasn't heard any of them before." Spencer suggested with a glint in his eye. "Oh! What about that time on Ryan's 20th birthday when---"

Ryan cut Spencer off almost immediately. "I don't think Brendon needs to know about that," he said, staring Spencer down with what he hoped to be a death glare. Brendon was starting to get interested now, leaning forward to catch the details of the story.

"No, no, I want to hear this," Brendon interjected.

"No. Not that story. But I can tell you about the time when Jon and Spencer's car broke down and---" Ryan started.

"Hey, why are you bringing me into this?" Jon said. "I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Jonathan Jacob Walker, you are nothing but innocent," Ryan muttered.

"Hey, George, I heard that," Jon complained.

"George? Wait, I'm so confused. I thought his name was Ryan. Also, I just want to be 100% sure, so are you and Spencer a thing?," Brendon rushed out all in one breath. Ryan couldn't help but stare at him and wonder how he managed to say so many things so quickly.

"Yeah, my first name is George, but I don't like to use it. I go by my middle name instead." Ryan explained. "And yes, Jon and Spencer are a thing. They are so gross sometimes." He shuddered lightly as certain scarring experiences came to mind, like the car incident.

"Oh, cool. Hey, I have a fun story about Spencer. I came to his _office_ to get something, and I was with my boss. And Jon, I think, was it you Jon, on Monday?" Brendon started. Jon nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Spencer began to sink down in his chair, pulling the strings of his hoodie to slowly cover his face. "Right, so we walked in, and Jon and Spencer were eating each other's faces, and our boss just about died in the doorway." By the time Brendon finished his story, he and Jon were near tears in laughter. Spencer had receded below the table and was curled up in a small ball.

Ryan was transfixed Brendon's utter joy, his easy grin, eyes alight with laughter. He could feel himself starting to laugh as well. Brendon's hair began to fall over his eyes slightly and Ryan found himself leaning over to push the hair away. He caught himself just in time to see that Spencer had come up from under the table and had begun to grin knowingly at Ryan and how obvious he was being. Ryan just rolled his eyes at Spencer. As the laughter died down, Spencer quickly pulled his phone from beneath the table. Brendon probably didn't notice. It took a trained eye to catch all of Spencer's antics. He typed quickly, and almost as soon as he replaced his phone in his pocket, Jon received a text on his phone. The two got up, making apologies, saying they had to "go call Patrick really quickly." It was just going to be Ryan and Brendon at the table until Jon and Spencer got what they wanted: Ryan to make an utter fool of himself.  _Not that I would need much help anyway,_ Ryan thought bitterly.

"Hey, that's cool, I guess," Brendon said hesitantly.

"What's cool?" Ryan asked.

"I know a Patrick too. He doesn't live in Vegas, though. He lives in Chicago with his best friend Pete." Brendon explained.

Ryan felt his jaw drop for the fiftieth time that evening. Patrick. A Patrick who lives in Chicago. With a guy named Pete. Pete Wentz who was Ryan's roommate in college. Brendon looking expectantly at him was the only thing that shook Ryan from his mini existential crisis. He began shakily, "Patrick, as in Patrick Stump?"

"Yeah, and Pete Wentz. Why?"

"That's who I went to visit in Chicago. Patrick and Pete."

Now it was Brendon's turn to have an existential crisis. But who's to say Ryan wasn't going through the same thing one barstool away?


	4. tap water conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wasn't going to continue this because I wasn't sure anyone would like it at all, but I know for a fact now that at least 4 people don't hate it, so let's just keep going. Also, I suck at summaries, notes, and titles, which is why they are all either terrible or don't exist. I also edited the first chapter so it's not that trash. Look for the tapwater joke in this chapter. It's going to happen a lot. And it's not funny. :)

Silence hung in the air for a good moment.

Ryan tried to talk, but his throat was dry and his voice faltered every time he thought he was brave enough to speak up. Both men were finally able to muster up enough courage, or whatever it was that brought them out of their thoughts and back into the real world. "How have we never met?" they asked in unison. A stray giggle escaped Brendon's mouth. "It's like--we've been in the same place at the same time. We have the same friends. I work with your friend."

"Maybe fate hasn't wanted us to meet before now." Ryan was feeling especially philosophical that night. Or maybe it was just the tap water talking.

"Oh, come on Ryan.....Ryan?" Brendon realized he didn't know Ryan's last name. How could he make a witty or particularly sarcastic comment without Ryan's last name? 

"Oh. It's Ross. Ryan Ross." 

"Oh my god. I love that. It's an alliteration, just like S--Spencer!" Another wave of deja vu washed over Ryan as soon as Brendon said that. What did he start to say before Spencer? He knew he had definitely heard something like that before. It was buried in the recesses of his memory, itching to come out.

"Yeah, it's cool I guess. What about you?" This conversation actually looked like it was actually going somewhere. Not just mumbled questions and silence. Brendon mentally congratulated himself for not being completely mute talking to a cute guy. It kind of seemed to be a trend of his.

"Bond. James Bond." he winked flirtatiously at Ryan when he said that. Ryan felt a smile spread across his face.

"I'm serious."

"I am too," Brendon said solemnly. "Scout's Honor."

"I bet you weren't even a Boy Scout, Brendon." Ryan felt a laugh creep towards the tip of his tongue.

"How dare you, George Ryan Ross III? I eat dinner with you, I share my secrets with you, and you feel the need to insult my honor this way?"

Ryan felt his face turn pink. "How did you--" he started. His voice faltered, trailing off before he could finish his question. He started once more, "How did you know my full name?"

Brendon let out a gasp, which turned into a laugh immediately. "The third? The third? That's your actual name? I was just messing around. You're kidding. That's freaking amazing."

"You know what, Mr. Double-O Seven, I didn't ask to be attacked. I really don't appreciate this." Ryan had begun to pout in an excessively dramatic manner. 

Brendon huffed loudly before finally giving in. "It's Brendon Urie."

Ryan felt a little more brazen than he ever had before. Well, at least the distant pining he always experienced when wanting to talk to a new person had faded. Now that they had begun to talk a little, he started to act more like natural-Ryan. A.k.a THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON YOU'LL EVER MEET. In a good way, of course. "No, I think I like James Bond better. He's met the queen. The biggest queen you've probably ever met is Spencer before his morning coffee." Jon and Spencer had begun to creep out of the guest room they were "calling Patrick" in and were both gazing intently at Brendon and Ryan from the doorway to the kitchen.

"Hey. Ryan. I'm right here." Spencer threw himself into the kitchen, leaning against the fridge with his hands crossed over his chest. "I leave for twenty minutes, and--"

"Spence. We both know you weren't on the phone with Patrick. Stop being weird. Also Jon, can you stop being a creep in the doorway?" This was getting to be too much. The guys, they had good intentions, but this whole situation should be Ryan's to figure out. Not theirs.

"Hey, I'm pretty confused, and I really want to stay to hear you chew them out, Ryan, but I have to be at work at 5 tomorrow," Brendon cut in, glaring at Spencer towards the end of his statement. "I guess I better be going."

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked as Brendon grabbed his jacket from the chair he had been sitting on.

"Yeah, it's fine. Nice to meet you, Ryan. I hope we can do this some other time." Brendon said as he began to walk into the hallway. Ryan paused. Was he talking to the group or to him in particular? Because Ryan would love to do "this" some other time regardless. But he would prefer it without Jon and Spence. As Brendon waved to the three of them and exited the door, Ryan turned on Jon and Spencer.

"What the fuck were you two thinking? I can't even go through a stupid conversation without the two of you butting in? I get that you just want to be happy, but your concern is much better placed anywhere else than my romantic life. I'll figure it out when I figure it out." he said quietly through his teeth. Jon said nothing, just pulled Ryan into a much-needed hug, patting him lightly on the shoulder. Ryan looked at the two of them once more. "I should go too," he mumbled. He hugged Spencer and Jon once more (a bro-hug because they were manly men) and headed out as well.

Brendon had driven no more than two blocks when he realized he was going in the wrong direction. The tap water at Spencer's house had really affected him. He turned his car around and began to drive once more when he saw a figure on the sidewalk, moving in the same direction as him. Droplets had begun to flood Brendon's windshield. The figure on the street had taken off his jacket and bunched it up between his arms. Brendon decided to pull over. "Hey, do you need a ride?" The guy, Brendon was 95% sure it was a guy, looked up. It was...was it? Ryan? "Ryan?" Brendon asked. "Why aren't you wearing your jacket? It's there for a reason."

"Leather. Fake leather, but I don't want it to be water damaged."

"Well, that's real intelligent," Brendon said. "Come on, let me drive you home." 

Ryan hesitated for a second, then nodded briefly. Brendon unlocked his car doors, and Ryan made his way to the passenger seat.

"Just tell me where to go." 

And so they drove, Ryan shivering from the rain he had been walking in. He had just placed his hands over the heater when Brendon looked at him. "Take my jacket," he said, offering the particularly soft looking one he had been wearing seconds before. Ryan let the warmth envelop him, not thinking that it was Brendon's jacket. Well, maybe just a little. And leaned his head back against the headrest and began to drift off to sleep.


	5. come on in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this is going, but it's going somewhere. Tell me how it is. I want to know.

Ryan wasn't asleep, he was just resting his eyes. Is what he told himself as he lay his head back on the seat. He had had a long day, he reasoned. Almost as soon as he had lain back, he felt his shoulder being shaken lightly.

"Ryan," the voice at his shoulder whispered. "Sorry for waking you, but we've been here for ten minutes and I think you might want to go inside."

Ryan blinked a few times and felt the drowsiness begin to wear off. He shook his head, hoping to gain a sense of lucidity, before finally looking up at whoever had been talking. It was that guy from Spencer's.  Brendon. The cute guy with the hair. The cute guy who was staring at Ryan with a slight smile painted on his face. Ryan paused before responding, taking the time to fully process what had just been said.

"Oh! Oh, I am so sorry to keep you waiting," Ryan said, his cheeks flooding with color. "Hey, would you like to come in for a while until the rain stops?" Ryan mentally kicked himself. Brendon said that he needed to be up early. Of course he didn't want to come in! Also, he barely knew Ryan. Why would he just come inside his house? And for all Ryan knew, Brendon could be a serial killer or something.

A bright smile spread across Brendon's face. He had a really nice smile. "If you don't mind," Brendon said. "That would be nice."

Ryan felt a matching grin spread across his own face, one the Cheshire Cat would be jealous of. "I don't mind," he said and moved to get out of the car. Brendon followed him to his doorstep and waited patiently for Ryan to unlock his door in the pure darkness that surrounded them. After a good five minutes at the doorstep, Ryan *finally* got the door open.

A brilliant light flooded the porch, and Brendon hesitantly followed Ryan into what was probably his house. Although, it did take Ryan really long to open the door. He could be like a burglar or serial killer or something. Ryan paused before shutting the door. "I have a quick question. You know just to be safe. You're not a serial killer or anything, are you?"

Brendon let out a surprised laugh. "I was literally thinking the same thing!"

"Okay, so we are literally the same person."

"I guess that means you can trust me," Brendon whispered to Ryan, almost confidentially. Pink had begun to creep across Ryan's pale cheeks. He moved away from Brendon, locking the door and leading Brendon into the living room. Brendon's slightly worried voice made its way through the hallway. "Um, Ryan? Is this normal?"

Ryan made his way back to the spot where Brendon was frozen to the floor, trying not to move too much. Curled around his feet, purring gently, was a very small spotted cat. "Oh, it's just Captain Knots. You're fine." Ryan smiled as Brendon cautiously bent down to eye level with the kitten. As Ryan came closer, the cat began to transfer its attention to _him_ instead. He chuckled lightly and gently lifted it towards him. The purring intensified as Ryan began petting the kitten slowly. He glanced up to see what Brendon was doing, still petting said cat.

Brendon was transfixed. A cute guy with a cute cat? A cute guy with a tiny baby animal? If anything else happened, Brendon would probably just die right there. "Captain Knots? That is the abso-fucking-lutely cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life." Ryan suddenly stopped petting.

"Hey, there are children present." Ryan said indignantly. Brendon mumbled his apologies. Ryan simply grinned widely and resumed his path to the living room, cradling said child (cat) in the crook of his elbow. When he finally got the couch, Ryan deposited the kitten on the middle seat ceremoniously.

"No way." Brendon said suddenly. "No way  
Is that a Fender FA-100?" Ryan remembered that he had left his guitar there the night before.

"Yeah, do you play?" He half hoped Brendon would play something right then and there.

"Um, yeah, but I'm not--"

"Relax Brendon, I'm sure you're great. Do you want to try it out?" Huh, since when  had Ryan been okay with letting others use his Fender? He barely let Jon use his thrift store guitar. Barely registering his own movements, Ryan felt himself pressing the guitar into Brendon's hands. "Just play something small."

Brendon looked nervous, but began to strum quietly. After a few chord progressions, he began to sing. Ryan's heart stopped beating. Or it was jackhammering in his chest. He didn't really know. All he knew is that Brendon's voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Ever. Captain Knots had curled up in Ryan's lap and fallen asleep, soothed by Brendon's voice.

Brendon was singing. In front of someone he barely knew. His heart was beating out of his chest. But he focused on Ryan and let the words flow out of his mouth. The cat was circling on Ryan's knees, and Ryan was stroking it lightly in time with the music. Brendon thought this was what he was talking about before. This was when Brendon was going to die. Cause of death: Ryan Ross' hotness. It's fine. His voice faltered when he noticed Ryan was staring at him with a strange look in his eye.

"That was beautiful, Bren," Ryan found himself saying. What was he going to do with himself?


	6. reverie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think these dreams are weird, just know they are all based on dreams I have had before.

It wasn't just that Brendon was an amazing singer. It's wasn't just that he was singing one of Ryan's favorite songs at the moment. It was how natural it all looked, how effortlessly the words rolled off his tongue, the way he threw his head back to belt high notes that made Ryan's breath slow.

It would be an exaggeration to say that Brendon was staring at Ryan. It wasn't in a creepy way, Brendon justified. After Brendon had returned the guitar, he had feigned sudden enthusiasm in the notebooks lying piled on the couch. Ryan had just shrugged mildly and gestured towards the pile, signalling that Brendon could look at them if he wanted. He was reading. He was. He just also might have been looking over the top of the notebooks. And it might have been the way Ryan interacted with the kitten, so carefree, with a true captivating smile on his face, that was so interesting. But it wasn't staring and it wasn't creepy. He was just looking. A lot.

At one point, Ryan put the cat back down on the couch. Brendon immediately shifted his attention to the words in the notebook clutched between his fingers. He began to read carefully, first noticing the heavily crossed out letters at the top of the page. The pencil had broken through the paper and skidded across the page angrily. Below, what Brendon thought could have been a title was messily smudged. He began to read. It was nothing like he had to ever seen before, heartbreaking and hopeful and clever and beautiful all in one. He looked up to see Ryan peering at him cautiously.

"Wow, Ry, this is amazing," he breathed gently. Ryan let out a sigh of relief he didn't even know he had been holding.

"You really think so?"

Brendon nodded. Ryan smiled tentatively. The air was charged. With something, neither of the two knew what it was. Abruptly, Brendon got up from his seat.

"Well, it's been nice, but I guess I better be going," he said.

Ryan's face was unreadable as he said, "Yeah, we should do it again sometime."

"Saturday at the small coffee shop near the park?"

"Would 3-ish work?"

"Cool," the two said at the same time. Brendon grinned (at least it wasn't a giggle this time) and began to walk back out the hallway. He walked back to the couch where Ryan was fruitlessly trying to detach himself from the cat which had somehow managed to anchor Ryan to the upholstery. Well, he wasn't really trying. Just mumbling, "bad cat," and affectionately petting the petulant animal that was meowing plaintively.

"G'bye Captain Knots," Brendon said with a mock salute. Ryan finally managed to stand up. Brendon walked over and gave him a hug. The real kind not the weird handshake-backslap thing that guys usually did. Ryan sank into the hug. It may have been the best hug of his life, but Ryan would probably need some more examples. Or trials with Brendon. You know, for science.

"See you on Saturday," Brendon said into Ryan's shoulder. Ryan walked Brendon to the doorstep and the two stood on the porch for a brief moment.

"Can't wait," Ryan replied.

Later that night, Brendon may have squealed into his pillow like a teenage girl, and Ryan may have paced circles around his bed for hours, but no one's counting.

Ryan had a strange dream that night.

 _He was standing in his childhood home, facing the screen door to the backyard. He felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to see someone he knew well. A friend presumably. He grinned widely at the newcomer. His brain tried to tell him something._ You know this guy, _it screamed to Ryan. But his subconscious brushed it off. It's just a guy with ruffled dark hair and dark square glasses._

Majority of the dream wasn't very memorable. He had a conversation with the glasses guy. He went to the back yard to check on his plants. _'_ _I just want to be sure that's how you felt about me,' the guy had said. Ryan had felt a smile spread across his face. Hope was coursing through his veins, spreading through to the tips of his toes. 'Because I care about you, Ryan. And I feel the same."_ The last thing he remembered was a tight hug and dark hair. Something he had seen twice in the past night.

Ryan picked up the phone as soon as he woke up and called Jon. "It happened again." Urgency and confusion was bleeding into his voice.

"I'm sorry?" Jon mumbled groggily into the receiver.

"It happened again. The dream." Jon's semester long course on Freudian dream interpretation made him the authority on what the hell was going on in Ryan's mind.

"What was it about?" Jon asked. Ryan explained the dream briefly.

"You know..." Jon started.

"Yes," Ryan pressed eagerly.

"Brendon has glasses."


	7. jasmine obscurities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking fic requests, so you know what to do ;)

(Saturday)

Brendon walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early. He had been sitting in his car in the parking lot for ten minutes before. And he had purposefully taken a wrong turn leaving his house. Just to calm himself down. He sat down on a low couch by the window and waited for Ryan to show up. The windchimes (Brendon hated windchimes) hung by the door began to jingle once more, and Brendon wrinkled his nose in disgust. He looked up to see who it was. But the guy was turned the other way. He was tall and lanky with light curls of dark brown hair hanging to the nape of his neck. "The Guy" had just raised his hand to take his sunglasses off, and several beaded bracelets slid down his wrist to expose an intricate tattoo. Brendon couldn't see what it was from where he was sitting. But "The Guy" was beginning to fill him with intrigue. He had to remind himself that he was there to see Ryan, not stare at everyone who walks in, trying to decipher his or her personal life and backstory. 

"Brendon!" A low voice called from a few yards away.

Brendon looked up to see who was talking to him. It was "The Guy." Brendon froze. "The Guy" walked closer to him, and Brendon swallowed nervously, wondering how "The Guy" knew his name. As he approached, Brendon realized it was Ryan.

"Hey, Ryan," he said.

"Hi," Ryan replied. It's not that he spent five hundred hours in the mirror on the phone with Jon and Spencer. More like an hour. And a half. But it wasn't just for Brendon. Ryan just wanted to look nice on the not-a-date. Because obviously, it wasn't a date. The two of them just met. And Brendon was straight. (He most definitely was not but that's another story.)

"What do you want to get?" Brendon asked.

"Here, I'll come with you." And the two of them got up and walked to the counter together. They ordered their drinks, caramel cappuccino (Brendon) and jasmine tea, "no milk, no sugar" (Ryan), then walked back to their seats. Suddenly, Brendon sat up on the sofa. 

"What are your tattoos?" he asked Ryan. Ryan rolled up the wooden bracelets *artfully, because he was sophisticated* piled on his wrist. "Mad as a Hatter, Thin as a Dime," Brendon read carefully. “Tom Waits?” he guessed.

“You’re the first one who guessed it. Most people are usually like, ‘Wow, you must really like Alice in Wonderland,’ and yeah, the original book was amazing, that movie terrified the crap out of me,” Ryan was surprised. He knew Brendon had good taste in music because of their shared interest in MCR, but he didn’t think he would know the obscure references like that one.

Brendon’s ever-present grin began to melt into peals of laughter. “You-” he gasped between breaths. “You were afraid of Alice in Wonderland?”

Ryan huffed. “I didn’t ask for this. And it wasn’t the animated one. That was good. It was the new one. With the people. Johnny Depp creeps me out.”

Brendon’s laughter melted away. “Aww,” he pouted. “It was much better thinking that you were afraid of a children’s movie. But hey, I have tattoos too.” And he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a piano tattooed across his forearm.

Ryan leaned in, interested. “Wow, Brendon, it looks like it’s coming out of your arm. That’s amazing,” Ryan brushed his fingertips slowly over the pale keys. Brendon shivered involuntarily, pink spreading to the tips of his ears. He carefully withdrew his arm from Ryan’s grasp and pulled his sleeve down. 

“It’s pretty chilly in here,” he justified.

Ryan just shrugged and went back to the mug of tea he had been clutching in his palms. “I just love it when you get like a hot drink or something, and you hold it like this,” Ryan said, cupping the mug, “And you just breathe in the steam.” He breathed in, eyes falling shut as he took in the aromatic steam. Brendon couldn’t help but smile at how adorable Ryan looked.

The two talked for the rest of the date about music, and college, and high school, and friends. Suddenly, Ryan remembered what he had wanted to ask Brendon since the night he came to Spencer’s house. “So how exactly do you know Spencer? Like I know from work, but like where? Because he’s being really shady about that,” 

“He’s going to hate me for telling you this. But it’s at 97.1 The Point.” Ryan’s jaw dropped at that.

“The Point? You work on the radio?  _ Spencer _ works on the radio? I am actually going to murder him in his sleep. What show?”

Brendon flushed and mumbled something barely audible.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Ryan said.

“The BS Show.” Ryan stood up immediately and walked to the paper towel dispenser in the corner.

“Um, Ryan?” Ryan heard Brendon calling him from the sofa. He walked back reluctantly.

“You’re B? You’re the  _ B _ ? Oh my god, I cannot stand you!” He was exasperated. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the music you play, but do you have to talk over the ends of the songs?”

“Is that it?” Brendon asked bemusedly.

“How do you spell ‘Fall Out Boy?’” Ryan had to make sure he wasn’t one of  _ those  _ people. And it looked like their relationship (friends-only of course) was going so well.

“Fall space Out space Boy, why?”

“Oh thank god,” Ryan sighed. “I am actually going to murder Spencer.”

The two of them eventually slipped back into the conversation from before after a long break during which Ryan sipped daintily at his jasmine tea, Ryan now talking about his cat, and Brendon talking about his dog Dylan. (Ryan choked out a laugh. “Dylan? That’s great!”. “You’re not one to talk. You had a dog named Hobo.” Brendon tried to argue back.)

At the end of the not-date, the Ryan and Brendon hugged each other (bro-hug because they were in public, duh) and went their separate ways.

And there Ryan sat, in the driver’s seat of his old car, trying to withstand the urge to bang his head repeatedly into the steering wheel. He was so screwed. Absolutely, 100% screwed. 

  
  
  



	8. radio doorstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it. I didn't quite know how to finish it, because I had some other story ideas that I wanted to think about before this, but it's done! :)

(Several Months Later)  
Ryan was waiting at a stop light for what seemed like the 500th time that day. He wanted nothing more than to hit his head repeatedly on the steering wheel like they do in movies (or car ads). He just needed something to distract him. He turned on the radio.  
"--anyone that catches your eye?" Spencer. Shit. What was he talking about?  
"Yeah..." a sheepish voice responded. Ryan could almost hear the smile in his all-too-familiar voice. It wasn't that his heart had suddenly dropped to his stomach and had begun to die slowly, but a frown was starting to spread over Ryan's face. He was just about to jab his finger violently on the dash to change the station but he heard something that stopped him.  
"Who is he?" Ryan froze. He? As in a guy? His heart was slowly making its way back up to his rib cage but was now beating in double time.  
“I’ve known him for a while, though. But he still catches my eye every time I see him.” Brendon sighed. Even someone who didn’t know Brendon could tell he had heart eyes.  
Don’t get your hopes up, Ross. Ryan told himself.  
“You know what, Brendon. I love you and everything, and ‘Ryden’ is my OTP and all, but I did not need to hear anything this sweet about my best friend.”  
Ryan jolted. The light had just turned green. He slammed his foot on the gas and turned the radio off as quickly as he could. It was almost an out of body experience. He drove as quickly as he could then pulled carefully into his driveway.  
The man with the mocha eyes. The center of Ryan’s universe since they met. The man with whom he’d shared his Fender, his cat, his entire life. The man with the golden voice, smooth like honey, sending shivers down his spine. The man of his dreams, quite literally. He was totally, utterly, and completely screwed.

(At the radio station)  
“Now, B, is there a young chap, anyone that catches your eye?” Spencer said to Brendon with an almost evil smirk on his face. Brendon glared at him with as much bitch-face he had been able to muster after almost a year of working with Spencer. Spencer responded by arching his brow so high it had nearly risen into his neatly arranged hair. He mouthed “ryan” slowly and deliberately in Brendon’s face, Brendon who had been silent for nearly a whole minute, entire face bright red.  
“Yeah,” Brendon finally responded. The audience would probably expect an answer. Or they would just angry tweet at him for the next week asking who it was. Might as well answer it now.  
But Spencer had to ask who. Now that was an entirely different story. “Ryan listens to this show on the fricking radio,” Brendon mouthed at Spencer. Spencer smirked and shrugged at Brendon.  
Might as well put on a show then, Brendon thought. “I’ve known him for a while, though. But he still catches my eye every time I see him.” He was just going to say the first line. He swears. But at some point his mind had just projected the image of soft curls and honey eyes and a shy smile in front of his eyes and he just kept talking until he cracked an eye open and saw Spencer grinning at him until his face would split.  
“You know what, Brendon. I love you and everything, and ‘Ryden’ is my OTP and all, but I did not need to hear anything this sweet about my best friend.” Shit. Spencer just--Jesus--Spencer basically told all of Nevada that Brendon had a schoolgirl crush on one of his best friends. Brendon basically had a “kill me now” look on his face and had sunk all the way down in his spinny chair.  
“Ok, the next song is Misery Business by Paramore,” Brendon managed to squeak out and turned out the audio for the speakers’ booth.  
“Spencer, I actually fucking hate you.”  
“Ok, go ahead, but who would have stopped you and Ryan from dancing around each other like you were high school kids? You are meant for each other. I’m sure I gave you my blessing ages ago.”  
“I have to go.”  
“Yes, you do.”  
Brendon ran as quickly as he could out to his car and drove with a mission.

(Ryan’s House)  
The doorbell rang suddenly and unexpectedly. Ryan frowned. It was 2:30 in the afternoon. Who could want to visit at this time? Or maybe it was a package again. He ran to the door, anxious for his new pair of fingerless gloves to arrive.  
Ryan slammed the door as soon as he opened it. Then opened it again. Brendon was standing on his doorstep with a sweet smile on his face.  
“You heard?” Brendon asked as if he already knew everything. He was trying not to show how worried he was that Ryan would turn him down.  
“Ryden is my OTP too.” Ryan whispered in Brendon’s ear, leaning forward ever so slightly. Brendon leaned into Ryan, eyes beginning to close.  
Ryan reached his hand up and ran it through Brendon’s smooth hair. And pulled him in for a kiss, heart in his throat. Until their lips finally met. Brendon sighed, wrapping his hand around Ryan’s waist and pulling him closer. Ryan’s phone suddenly buzzed. “Ryden is my OTP too, thanks for asking.” It was Jon.


End file.
